Page 49 of No Going Back
“WELL AREN’T YOU chipper today.” Janie strode through the door, grinning as she wiggled her brows. “I don’t think I have ever walked in here to find you whistling.”
Dianna looked up from the batch of cookies she was scooping out onto a tray. For a second she considered denying Janie’s accusation, but there was no hiding her good mood. “I’ve just had a really good day.”
Janie hung her purse beside the door and snagged an apron. “What I’m hearing you say is you got laid last night.”
Once again, Dianna considered being coy. Holding her secrets close.
But she’d held so many secrets close when it came to men and relationships, none of them good. For once she wanted to be able to be open about what was happening, and she felt like Janie might be her friend—or was at least on the road to becoming one.
“I did get laid last night.” She dropped a wad of dough onto the baking sheet with a thunk, lifting her eyes to where Janie was tying her apron in place. “A few times.”
Janie’s mouth opened in a surprised smile as she slowly nodded. “Yes. Good for you.” She blew out a loud sigh. “I was hoping I’d be able to catch myself a dick considering how many cowboys there are around here, but I’m finding out this isn’t a great season to be shopping for them.”
Dianna dropped another cookie onto the sheet. “I’m not sure any season is good to try to shop for a cowboy. They all seem to work as much as I do.” She’d noticed that the men who worked on the ranches surrounding Moss Creek seemed to swarm the city at specific times of the day, and on specific days of the week. “Maybe one day I’ll have you come in and help me run the register in the morning.” She wiggled her brows. “You’ll definitely get to meet plenty of cowboys then.”
Janie wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t say I wanted to get out of bed early to find one.” She went to the large cooler and pulled out the flat of eggs, preparing to mix up the dough for tomorrow’s cinnamon rolls. “I kinda just want one to show up in my bedroom occasionally on an as-needed basis.”
Dianna laughed again. “Not looking for anything serious?”
Janie blanched. “No. Definitely not.” She went to the large mixer in the corner and started measuring in flour. “If I wanted something that refused to communicate with me I’d get a pet rock.” She squinted toward the ceiling, thinking for a second. “Actually, a pet rock might emotionally connect with me more than my last boyfriend.”
Dianna pressed her lips together, focusing a little more on Janie as she continued laying out cookies. “He wasn’t one to open up?”
Janie scoffed as she added in yeast. “That’s putting it lightly.”
Dianna finished lining up the dough and grabbed the sheet, carrying it toward one of the ovens in the back room. “Why was he so closed off?”
“Because he was an asshole?” Janie shrugged. “Who knows.”
Dianna slid the cookies into place and closed the door. “You didn’t ask him?”
“Sure I did, but—shocker—he didn’t want to talk about it.” She snagged the milk from the fridge. “And at a certain point I didn’t give a shit anymore.”
Is that what would happen with Griffin? He’d given her glimpses of what he thought and how he felt, but that was it. The possibility put a damper on her good mood. She’d settled more times in her life than she could count and wasn’t going to do it again.
Breakfast attempts and endless orgasms were nice and all, but if she was going to dip her toe back into the relationship pool it would be with someone who could swim as well as she could.
Because there was no fucking way she was going under the water again.
EIGHTEEN
GRIFFIN
GRIFFIN RUSHED TO the front of his house, glancing out one of the large windows before turning to race back into the single room he’d been living out of for over a month. The microwave beeped just as he reached the doorway, signaling the end of its cook cycle. He crouched down, popping open the door to reach in and stir around the contents, spreading everything out so it would cook evenly before closing the door and resetting the timer.
Not long after Dianna left for the day it started to sink in just how little had been expected of him in his past relationships. He didn’t cook. He didn’t clean. All he did was pay the bills and provide a physical service just about every man worth his salt was willing to offer.
Sure, he sent flowers and bought gifts, offering up what amounted to bribery any time a woman asked him for more.
More conversation. More connection. More intimacy.
That’s all any of them had ever really wanted from him, and he’d done everything in his power to avoid it.
He’d worked hard to prove he was more than the poor kid with alcoholic parents. More than the man who wasn’t smart enough to be in real school and spent his days as part of a co-op program instead. Confessing how all of that still affected him would shine a spotlight on every flaw. Every crack. Every blemish.
Once they saw all that, they’d do the smart thing and walk away.
And he wouldn’t have blamed them.
